


Give me the riddle-man

by Michaelangelo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Branding, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Torture, Whump, Whumptober, also because this is a daily writing prompt thing im not being super careful with my proof reads, although the canon is mostly ignored here so its whatever really, he has nothing for edward, oswald is only mentioned in passing riip, this is mostly just whump the plot is loose as heck, this is set probably post season 2 but pre season 4 haha, this was a promptober thing but im not putting it in the series cause i like it too much haha, tw, victor is only interested in the riddler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelangelo/pseuds/Michaelangelo
Summary: Zsasz is put to the task of bringing the Riddler to his boss, which is all well and good, except Edward is refusing to let the Riddler out, so Zsasz has to use his only real skillset to get him out. Luckily for him, the Riddler really likes him, and it seems he might like the Riddler too.





	1. Branding

Agony would be too dramatic of a word, but anything less would be undervaluing the pain that bore itself deep inside Edward’s thigh. His legs pulled hard against their restraints, and he arched forward, mouth open in a silent scream, which turned to a smile as he lifted his head back up.  
He was still himself and that's all that mattered.  
“Give me him.” the Zsasz spoke as he moved the branding iron back into the fire. His tone was firm and commanding, but level. It was his professional voice, his ‘hello boss’ voice, his ‘I’ll get it done’ voice.  
“No.” Edward replied, letting the smile remain on his face, because it seemed like he couldn't shake it off. He was too happy. He could hear the Riddlers voice in his head, telling him how close he was to taking the body, but he hadn’t yet, and that was a victory for Ed. He just had to keep reminding himself that it was a waiting game, and that Penguin was undoubtedly looking for him by now. As long as he could hold out until then, he would be fine.  
“Then I guess we'll just keep playing, huh Eddie?”  
“I guess we will.”  
Zsasz dropped the iron, letting it rest on the floor with the branding end still planted firmly in the heat. He walked across the room to Edward, his long confident strides making the trapped man crumple inwards slightly, unaware he was even doing it. But Zsasz saw it, he always did. It was one of his favourite parts of the job, seeing the ‘prey’ squirm away as if they had somewhere to go.  
He reached forward, and smiled at the flinch he received when he touched the other man's neck. He pulled off Nygma’s black tie in a smooth motion and slowly unbuttoned his still surprisingly crisp shirt, before pulling it as far down his shoulders as it could go. He would have taken it all the way off, if it weren't for the tape that locked both of Nygma’s wrists against the arm of his chair.  
Zsasz was relaxed, but calculated in his movements. Like he knew all the steps he was going to take, and exactly what effect they were going to have on his prisoner. It was as if he knew Edward in a way that nobody did. It was like he knew which buttons to press and what things to say, to get the Riddler to come out. He didn’t, he couldn't, no-one but Edward really did, but his confidence was frightening.  
“Are you sure we have to do it this way? It seems like a waste of a lovely chest. If you give me the riddle-man now, then I won’t have to do this.” He let his fingers roam the taller man’s slender chest, lingering predatorily close to his neck, and eyeing it like he might drop the job all together and just kill him then and there.  
“I’m sure. I’m not letting you anywhere the ‘riddle-man’.”  
“Well that's a shame, for you.” He said, before walking across the room and retrieving the branding iron.  
_"I could just go out there and stop all this you know Eddie, baby." _The Riddler spoke from deep inside his mind.  
“Shut up.” Edward said aloud as he shook his head slightly, trying to clear it.  
“I didn't say anything.” Zsasz said, suddenly far closer then Nygma had realised.  
“He’s not talking to you.” The Riddler replied in a slow, sultry tone, before getting pulled back inside, the body slumping down for a second until Edward could get back control.  
“Looks like you aren't as good at controlling him as you thought.” Zsasz said when he saw the body sit back up with Edwards obvious, awkward posture.  
“Bite me!” Edward replied, suddenly angry and exhausted. It was hard enough keeping the Riddler in check on a good day, and now he had to deal with this too. He couldn’t help but snap at Victor.  
“Gladly.” Zsasz replied, before quickly grabbing a fistful of Edwards hair and yanking his head back, revealing the deliciously long neck, and sinking his teeth in it. The taste of blood flooded his mouth as he bit down harder, letting himself enjoy the harsh metallic flavour. The scream that accompanied it, rang out loud and high, before shifting into a much more sexual sounding whimper. The Riddler was back.  
“Do it again?” He asked, almost pleaded, when Zsasz pulled his teeth out of his skin. “Please.”  
“I must say, you have much better manners than Mr. Nygma, but unfortunately I’m not allowed to hurt you. I can do whatever I want to the nerd to get you here, but I have to take care of you.” Zsasz said, letting a hint of personal interest drip into his voice.  
“Than take care of me.” The Riddler said, speaking into the Zsasz’s neck, making the assassin realise that he was still holding a handful of his soft brown locks.  
“Sorry but I’m on the clock, maybe some other time though.” Zsasz replied as he crossed the room and replaced the un-used branding iron back into the fire.  
“You spend all this time trying to get me out here, and then don’t even want to play?” The Riddler teased, as he slid his hips forward slightly and let his legs fall open invitingly.  
“I really can’t right now.”  
“Fine.” And then the body fell limp again before rising a few seconds later, with a laugh creeping out of the lips, and the rigid posture of Edwards returning.  
“No! Where’s the riddle-man?”  
The laughter grew louder, “You bored him!”  
“What!?”  
“You wouldn't play with him, so he left!”  
“Bring him back.”  
“Why would I do that?”  
“Do it!”  
“No!” Edward replied, smiling brightly up at Victor.  
“Fine, back to this then.” Zsasz said as he grabbed the branding iron once more and crossed the room quickly. Landing the tool straight on the center of Edwards chest without a moment's hesitation.  
The room filled instantly with the smell of burning flesh, and the sound of searing meat, and for a long second that was all, until Edward began to scream. The light tone completely bled from his voice, and the noise he made was deep and dry, from somewhere low in his chest, he let it become an almost animalistic. And then it changed again. It wavered, flickering between a growl, and a deep moan. His body writhed, arching and bending randomly, fighting itself and the pain until the iron cooled somewhat and the pain eased.  
Zsasz pulled away the iron, and looked in amazement at his work. The giant question mark shape was incredibly clear already, even through all the blistered flesh and open skin. The ones that littered his legs, where nowhere near as good as this one. Edward had squirmed around too much during those, but this one was perfect.  
“Now give me the Riddler.” Zsasz ordered as he tossed the branding iron across the room, done with it for the time being.  
“No.” He answered with a dry cough and a weak smile.  
“What do I need to do to get him back?”  
“Why would I give you that information?”  
_“I already told you what to do, sweety. Just think. Just for one second.”_ The riddler tried to reply, but only managed to say to Edward.  
And then it clicked.  
Zsasz grabbed Edward by the neck suddenly, but carefully, not wanting to risk his delicate spine, and sunk his teeth back into it. This is what the Riddler had asked for after all, this must be what he wanted. And he was right. The second his teeth locked into the tender skin, he was met with a moan that could only belong to the Riddler. Even if Edward liked pain, and Zsasz, and being kidnapped, he would never have moaned like that.  
“It’s good to have you back.” Zsasz said, before landing another hard bite slightly lower down, letting his professional voice completely drip away, but still very aware this was a job.  
“It’s good to be back.” the Riddler replied breathlessly as he bent his neck, giving Zsasz better access. “So are we going to play this time?”  
“Yes.” Victor replied, lying. He wanted to play, he really did, but he was working. He had to do whatever he could to get the Riddler's to his employer, and it seemed like this was what it was going to take.  
“Good.” Riddler whispered.  
Zsasz ran his free hand down the front of the Riddlers chest, pressing his fingers into the burn and getting a series of adorable moans out of the taller man, that he would have adored under any other circumstances. He let his fingers trail down further before running them painfully lightly over the front of the Riddler’s briefs, who tried his best to grind up into them. But Victor was far to in control for that, and lifted his hand slightly to deny the Riddler the touch he craved.  
“Please.” The Riddler moaned pained and breathlessly, suddenly melting for Zsasz like a perfect little pet.  
“You need to do something for me first.”  
“Anything.” He promised, with a tone so desperate and needy that it made Zsasz want to kiss the soft boy. But this was business.  
“I need you to go to my boss, and do something for him. He has a job for you.”  
“And then we get to play?” He whined.  
“Yes. Then we get to play, as much as you’d like. Deal?”  
“Deal!”  
Zsasz smiled into the tall man's bloodied neck, before he pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He tucked the blade under the tape on the Riddlers ankle before asking, “So you promise to be a good boy, and do this for me?”  
“Yes Zsasz, I promise. I’ll be a good boy for you.”  
“Good.” Zsasz said before he flicked the knife and cut away the tape, removing all of it in a series of fast, and clean cuts.  
The man was weak when he stood, and needed to lean on Zsasz for support. He didn't even have the strength to put his clothes back on himself, and needed Victor to help re-dress him. They got his pants back up from where they had pooled around his shins, just above where the tape had been, and got his shirt buttoned back up although they gave up on it about 2 buttons from the top. As a result, they simply abandoned his tie and without it, the jacket seemed just as pointless.  
They walked together as far as they could, but the Riddler was mostly just being dragged by Zsasz, who decided it would be easier to just carry him. The taller man was very happy to comply with the suggestion, as his excited energy was starting to wear out and the exhaustion of the body was beginning to get to him, making it increasingly hard for him to even stand. He needed to rest.  
So Zsasz lifted him up as if he were a tired child, and carried him out of the warehouse, taking a quick detour to turn of the buildings power. When they got to the car, he was unsurprised to find the man in his arms fully asleep, and he slid him gently into the backseat, trying his best not to wake him, and succeeding for the most part.  
It was a long drive to his bosses house, and the man who now lay in his backseat was clearly at his limits, it made no sense to wake him up for this. Zsasz drove for several hours in near silence, broken only by the soft words that would fall out of the Riddlers mouth while he slept. They were cute nonsense words, that had a high and sweet inflection to them that made Victors heart swell. He didn't understand why, but he felt the need to care for this man. Something about him made Victor feel soft, but he couldn't think about that right now, this was still work.  
The hours passed slowly as Zsasz drove until he reached the small mansion that belonged to his employer. It was one that Victor knew well, and he was greeted casually by the few members of staff he encountered as he walked in, carrying the still limp body in his arms as if it were a normal occurrence. He walked up a large staircase and weaved his way through a maze of hallways to a room that was almost his own.  
He laid the tall man down on his bed, and looked at his watch. It was late. Too late to wake up the boss just to tell them that he might have the Riddler. He hoped he did, but he couldn't deny that there was a chance that he might wake up as Edward again. He would just have to wait it out and see who it would be in the morning.  
With nothing left that he could do that night, Zsasz moved to a chair across the room, and began to fall asleep. He considered briefly that he should probably tie the Riddler up, just in case, but completely abandoned that idea when he heard the man speak.  
“Come to bed.”  
It was a soft sound, barely even there, but Zsasz heard it, and moved, ghost-like with sleepiness. He crawled into the bed and was immediately met with the Riddler wrapping around him, cuddling down into his chest and tangling their legs together. Zsasz knew that this was the man he was going to wake up next to in the morning, and was honestly excited for it.  
Once the job was done, this man was going to be his. There was no doubt about that.


	2. Stab Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the riddler finds out he is being framed for crimes he didnt commit, and decides its up to him and zsasz to stop them

Zsasz was awake, but he kept his eyes closed. He so wanted to fall back to sleep, and the comfort of the soft bed, and the warmth of the body tangled around him made it a most tempting idea, but he couldn't. This was work time now, and he had to do his job.  
He slipped out of the bed gently, wanting to not wake the taller man who still clearly needed to rest. The lanky man looked sweet when he was relaxed like this, soft and tousled and calm. Not like the Riddler had looked when he had fallen asleep, and also not quite how Edward looked either. There seemed to be no indication of who was going to wake up in control, and Victor had to make preparations, lest it be Nygma.  
The tall man slept very heavily as it turned out, which was not unexpected given how exhausted he was, but it was heavier than Zsasz had ever known anybody else to sleep. The strange man rested peacefully while Victor taped his mouth shut, and while his hands were bound together with handcuffs behind his back. He even slept through it while Victor unbuttoned his shirt and gently washed his burned chest with cool water, and taped a thick, soft, pad of gauze over it. He considered doing his legs are well, but felt like it verged a little too close on being invasive. After all he had done the day before, it was a strange sentiment to have, but it really did seem strange to remove the pants of a sleeping man.  
Zsasz stared at him for a minute, feeling oddly upset by the sight before him. A man, unconscious and bound and covered in burns, was nothing new to the assassin, that was in fact, a good portion of his job, but something about this was different. He had some sort of personal involvement now that he had to force himself to not think about. It wasn't the time for that, and besides, if he had any sort of feelings for this man, he would have to stop the job. It’s not professional to work on someone you know and Zsasz took pride in being one of the best in the industry. So he pushed the dawning feelings aside, and turned away.  
He opened the cupboard on the far side of the room, and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. The client he worked for was a regular, and they insisted on him staying with them when he was on a job. It made them feel safer for some reason, and Zsasz wasn't one to complain about free food and the nice room, that was always left free just for him. He had clothes there, and a few small things in the bedsides, like a draw full of unused toothbrushes and another full of knives that clattered together when he opened it.  
Even this sound didn't wake the sleeping figure, despite him stirring and getting restless.  
Somehow, in the few minutes since Victor had cuffed him, he had managed to completely rid the bed of blankets and pillows, and nearly the sheets too. His legs had splayed and both hung off the bed, one bent over the footboard, and the other hung off the side. The assassin had noticed his movements and assumed it meant he was starting to wake, but looking at him now, he couldn't be sure. He still looked just as deep in sleep as he had earlier.  
The Zsasz decided it would be worth it to dress in a different room, just incase he woke up, not because he was shy, but again because of the strange feeling that it would have been invasive. He knew the Riddler liked him and probably wouldn't have minded, and he really didn't care if Edward saw him naked, but it still felt wrong.  
He moved into the nearby bathroom to dress, and decided to shower while he was there as well, wanting to look and feel fresh incase the Riddler did wake up, and he needed to present him to his boss. And when he returned to his room, he was glad for his choice.  
When he entered the large bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of the tall man, awake and writhing around, clearly feigning a struggle against his cuffs and using it as an excuse to squirm around invitingly. There was no doubt that this was the Riddler.  
“Good morning. How did you sleep?” Zsasz asked as he ripped the tape away from his mouth, letting himself be a little bit rougher than he needed to be.  
“Very well.” The Riddler answered smoothly, as he took his long legs and wrapped them around Zsasz’s waist, pulling him closer. It was a spider-like motion, hauntingly smooth and far stronger the Victor was prepared for. He was dragged onto the bed, where he landed comfortably between the Riddlers thighs, with his hands planting firmly on either side to keep him from losing his balance.  
The assassin smiled, before leaning in close enough to let his lips softly brush the other mans, and whispering, “Work first.”  
It was followed by the soft click of handcuffs opening as he let the taller man free, no longer needing him to be restrained. But the moment his arms were free, he had them draped around the Zsasz’s neck, and was gently leading him into the kiss that he felt he was owed.  
It was slow and gentle, without the pressure or hunger that Victor was so used to in kisses. Zsasz almost always kissed with the end goal of fucking, but this wasn't that, this was sweet and tender and it tapped into the soft emotion he was growing for the Riddler. To his surprise, the Riddler was the one to eventually break the contact, but not before a few long moments had passed with them tangled together.  
“Work first.” He said into the assassins mouth, who placed one final kiss on his lips before getting off the bed. It was a kiss he shouldn't have given. He could receive them, sure, he had to do anything to keep the Riddler here, but giving them wasn't necessary. It was all becoming too friendly, too intimate even, and he had to stop it now.  
“Stay here. I’ll tell my boss your here. Put these on.” The assassin said, feeling a sudden need to have some distance from the Riddler. He placed a set of clothes on the bedside before slipping out of the room.  
A sense of almost panic filled him once he had left the room, and let himself realise that he was clearly feeling something for the Riddler. He walked into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water, trying to clear his head. Why had he kissed the stupid riddle-man? He could lie to himself all he wanted about doing what he had to, but he knew he was being far too tender, and far to forward for this to just be professional. He knew he had to get it under control, at least for the time being. He couldn't be walking around like a blushy, mess right now.  
The bathroom he was stood in was on the opposite end of the mansion to where his boss was likely to be, and he decided the long walk there might be the perfect thing to help him get his thoughts together, because washing his face really hadn't helped. So he started walking, and before long, he was moving in his confident work stride, with his shoulders back, and his footfalls loud and powerful. By the time he reached his bosses office, he was fully locked into his professional headspace, and until this job was officially done, he wouldn’t be letting it falter. He liked this job, and wasn't going to risk it just to flirt.  
His knock on the bosses door was clean and crisp, and the conversation that followed was brief.  
After that, he went back to the room and fetched the Riddler, who also seemed to have moved into his ‘work’ headspace. He knew he had something to do now, and seemed to be getting excited for it, clearly hoping it would be something fun.  
It was strange for Victor to see the other man standing tall, but not rigid, like Edward does. Nygma’s professional look was even more awkward than his normal look, but the Riddlers was very different. It was the same body, with the same build, and yet they both carried it so differently, even when they were both trying to convey the same mood. The Riddler was far more expressive, nearly dramatic, and even when he was trying to be formal, he couldn't hide that part of himself. It was integral to him. Zsasz felt himself starting to think it was almost cute, how excited he was getting, but shut down the thought before it had even a chance to bloom.  
He let the Riddler into the office and was asked to leave by his boss, which was an order he was almost grateful for, but as he was leaving, he heard Riddler quietly ask him to wait in his car, with the engine on. He didn't know why, but he felt that he should. It could be traitorous to his boss, depending on what the Riddler was about to do, but he couldn't help but feel like he should. And so he did.  
He walked out of the building, collecting his cash on the way, and started his car.  
He didn't have to wait long before the Riddler came out, moving in a fast walk that looked almost like Edwards, but the smile he wore definitely wasn't. And the blood that had found its way to his face and shirt was also clearly not something Edward would just leave there. What had happened in the last few minutes? The Riddler slid into the passenger seat before commanding Zsasz to drive. It was a strong tone and one Victor felt like it was worth listening too.  
They drove in silence for a long time, almost awkward for the Riddlers new found quiet-side, which seemed to be the side of him that was more work oriented. It looked like he was thinking something over, like the gears were turning in his head but they weren't yet oiled. Just slamming and grating together, instead of coming up with anything helpful. Some vital piece of information was clearly missing, and the Riddler was thrilled to be trying to find it.  
“We need to go back to your place.” The Riddler suddenly said.  
“Why?”  
“Because I’ve been stabbed.”  
“Wait, what? When? Where?” Victor asked, confused and disbelieving, running his hand blindly over the Riddlers chest, trying to find a wound to see if he was serious, but completely forgetting about the burn on his chest. He pulled his hand away when the tall man let out a pained whimper, guilt flushing through him, before being quickly chased away with irritation. The Riddler had been sitting beside him in silence for the better part of an hour now and he was only just choosing to mention this?  
“Your boss stabbed me while you were getting the car started. A single stab wound to the top of my left arm, it’s not deep but it will need stitches. So we need to go to your house. I'm assuming you have the tools to stitch a wound.”  
“Yeah I do. But why did he stab you?”  
“I’m not sure yet. He said something about me killing his men, but as far as I’m aware I haven't killed anyone recently. I think maybe Eddie, baby, is doing something he shouldn't be and is blaming me for it. Or maybe it's someone else altogether. But either way, I’m being framed here, and I am wonderfully excited to figure out who’s doing it.”  
“You are the only person I’ve ever met, who is excited about being framed.”  
“I’ll be honest, I’m not allowed out much, and it is crushingly boring in there. A mystery like this, is the best thing that could ever happen. Thank you so much for kidnapping me.”  
“Your welcome? So wait, going back to the stab wound thing, why can’t we just take you to a hospital?”  
“Penguin will be looking for me by now. He loves Eddie, maybe a little bit too much, and he would have noticed he was missing after like 20 minutes. If I go to a hospital, they’ll call him, and I’ll be locked back inside so fast.”  
“Okay, my place it is then.” Zsasz said before making a hard turn, that made the Riddler wince. They were much closer to his house then he had been letting on and in about 10 minutes they were both safely in his house. The doors locked and bolted, and the curtains drawn.  
The stab wound was exactly as the Riddler had said it would be, not too deep, but it definitely needed stitches. When Victor started, he was surprised to find that the squirming, masochistic, Riddler from the day before was gone, and had been replaced with the strong, focused Riddler, who seemed to not even feel his wounds. He sat perfectly still, seemingly lost in thought until the stitches were done. He didn't even speak until Zsasz stood up and told him he was finished.  
“How do they look?”  
“Amazing.”  
_“Awful! Look at this gash! That’s going to leave a huge scar! What right do you have to do this to the body, and then not even get it properly treated!”_  
“Thank you, they wouldn't have turned out anywhere near this good, if you hadn't sat so well. So did you figure out who’s framing you yet?” Victor asked as he wrapped a bandage around the injured arm.  
“Not yet, but Eddie said it wasn't him. I’m not sure if I believe him, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a lead.”  
“We? As in me and you?”  
“Yeah. We’re in this together aren't we?”  
“I guess so. I was just under the impression that you prefer to work alone.”  
“Why would I want to work alone, when I’ve got someone as stunning as you to work with?” The Riddler said, letting the flirty part of him come back a little. He pulled Victor close with his uninjured arm and wrapped it around his waist, not knowing how easily he reignited the soft part deep inside Zsasz.  
“So what's the plan then?” Victor asked as he placed his hands on the Riddlers thighs and squeezed down into the burned flesh, loving the moaning cry that the Riddler let fall from his mouth.  
“We figure out whose framing me, and then we kill them, unless it’s Eddie, cause it still might be.”  
“That doesn't seem that hard.”  
“But remember we also have to avoid penguin finding us. And honestly, if I see that tiny, little, bird-man, I don't know if I’m going to be able to keep control here either. Eddie likes him too much and might finally be able to get himself together enough to get back in the driver's seat.”  
“Okay, so we need to avoid penguin, and anyone who works for him, which is almost everyone, including us. And while doing that, we also need to figure out who is framing you, and kill them, unless your framing yourself, in which case, we have no plan.”  
“Exactly.”  
“Why on earth did I agree to this?”  
“You know exactly why you agreed to this.” The Riddler replied, before dragging Victor into a kiss. It wasn't enough to make him forget the terrible scheme he had somehow found himself involved in, but it was definitely a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this about the gotham version of the Riddler, and following what appears to be the rules for his personal experiences with his condition. I'm not trying to be disrespectful in any way to people dealing with things similar to him, by writing things that may be wrong. I am simply trying my best.


	3. Revenge (Sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the riddler is being framed, and he has to find and stop whoever is doing it

Victor liked the way the Riddler kissed. It was always soft, and welcoming, and even when he was leading, it was an invitation. His mouth was warm and accepting, willing to match any energy but never taking the initiative to add anything other than softness. Even when Zsasz pushed harder into the kiss, he was met with the same force and passion, but the softness was still there, just underneath it all. Like the tenderness of a first kiss that he never seemed to lose.

Passion bubbled slowly between them, neither seeming to know where this was intended to go. They were happy to stay where they were, or happy to go further, but they each had reasons not to make that call.

_ “Get off him!”  _ Edward ordered the Riddler, who chose to ignore him, instead placing a hand over Zsasz’s and squeezing hard, letting them both press down into his burned flesh. A pained hiss slipped over his teeth, followed by a soft moan that Victor all but pulled from his mouth.

“You like getting hurt?”

“Yes!” He uttered breathlessly.

_ “No!” He shouted angrily. _

“Then may I?” Zsasz asked as his hand slid up and wrapped around the Riddlers neck.

“Yes, please do it.” He nearly begged.

_ “Don't you dare! If he hurts my body, I will kill him!” _

“Oh shut up Eddie, baby. You couldn’t hurt a fly, why do you think we have me?” He spoke aloud, as Zsasz fingers dug into the bite marks on either side of his throat, and pressed forward to choke him. His voice nearly broke, but not quite.

“Is Edward causing trouble in there?” Zsasz asked, pulling away from the kiss to watch as the Riddlers skin flushed red, and his eyes began to water.

“He always is. But he seems to think that your going to hurt this body, that he so loves to call his.” The riddler responded, barely audibly.

“I wonder what would give him an idea like that.” Victor teased as he tightened his hand, watching the Riddlers eyes start to drift closed. He wasn't struggling, or gasping yet, his trust was so deep after only two days. Most would call it stupid and reckless, and Victor normally would have too, but he couldnt deny how sweet it was that this man would just let him choke him like this. He kissed his cold lips once before slowly releasing his grip, a soft bruise begging to form where his hand had been.

The Riddler breathed deeply and heavily once he could, the normally colour spreading back through his face, his hands resting lightly on Victos chest and his head hung while he caught his breath. And then suddenly, he looked straight up meeting Victors gaze, his eyes wide and focused.

“It’s so obvious!”

“What?”

“Give me your phone, I need to make a call.” The Riddler said, as he slid forward off the countertop, and stood chest to chest with the assassin, “I’ll be quick.”

Zsasz gave the Riddler his phone, and watched as he walked into the bedroom. He considered following him for a moment, but the door drifted shut and within seconds he could hear talking, and knew it was too late.

While the Riddler was busy, Victor managed to clean away the medical supplies, make and drink a pot of coffee, put on a load of washing and start jotting down an apology note to send his boss. He didn't know if his boss would be upset with him for taking the Riddler away with him, instead of letting him die, and he was a client the Zsasz was keen on keeping. So an apology was definitely in order.

He had barely begun though before the Riddle flung open the door and commanded they get in the car. They drove for a short while, cutting through a lot of side-alleys that were all but forgotten, and weaving through streets they weren't likely to be recognized in, until they arrived at a very familiar building. Barbra’s club. Or technically it was the sirens club, but everyone knew who really ran it.

“What are we doing here?”

“Meeting Selina.”

“Why? She’s the cheapest snitch around, she’ll rat you out in the blink of an eye.”

“Nice to see you too.” She said, appearing just outside his window, the sarcasm dripping from her mouth like poison.

“It’s true and you know it.”

“That was the old me. I’ve got a job now. I don't need the money anymore. Plus he offered me something way sweeter.” She said, gesturing towards the Riddler.

“What did you offer her?”

“Just a favour, from the penguin. I’m his right hand after all, I can give them out all I want.”

They talked for another few minutes, before Selena led them up in to see Barbra, who was very impressed with her little kittens ability to get her first proper favour from Pengy. She was finally becoming someone in this town, and Barbra felt entitled to more than a little bit of pride.

Barbra told them everything she knew, which was a lot more than Zsasz had expected it to be. Apparently Tabitha had been hunting down the Riddler for a while due to some personal issues, and she had thought these killings would lead her to him. But they hadn't. They actually led her, to Tetch. Once she found him, she gave up. Tabby thought Tetch was a useless dead end, who wasn't worth listening too for even a minute, and it was clear he wasn't going to help her find the Riddler anyway, so why bother.

“Last I heard, Tetch is on a bit of a personal lock down. Apparently he kidnapped a few people, and trapped them all, and himself, in the Theatre. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, and thank you. You've been more helpful than you could possibly imagine.” The Riddler said, pushing into his flirtatious tone to remind everyone that he wasn't Edward and wasn't going to do something stupid. Or he was, but a different type of stupid.

They left the building after that and headed straight to the theater.

“Why is Tetch faking my crimes? He has a very clear m.o. And a cool one, at that.”

“Maybe he’s working for someone?”

“He doesn't need money, and it's not like anyone could trick him into it.”

“Is there anything he wants?”

“I mean, he wants his sister back. But she’s very dead.”

“The dead don't rest well in this city.”

“They do when you know for a fact that she was cremated.”

“Okay, that does throw a spanner in the works.”

“Yeah, that's why I can't figure out why he’s framing me, and so poorly as well. Did you hear what Barb’s said?”

“Well yeah, I was there, but which part?”

“That he's not even doing anything riddler related. He's just tagging question marks everywhere and hoping I get the blame, and worst of all, I am!”

“I get why that would be upsetting, if someone stole my thing, I’d probably kill him.”

“I think I might. I like that top-hat wearing fool, but this is too far. And it’s not like he’s stupid! He could conceivably make Riddles that were good enough to convince people they were mine. They would be bad, but at least some effort could be made.” The Riddler spoke, letting anger pass through him waves. For a second he would be fine, and then like a switch had flipped, he was angry and offended at the lack of effort. By the time they arrived at the theatre, he was fuming, swearing to get Tetch for framing him so poorly, but that all feel away as they pushed open the doors.

They entered the theatre through the front doors, making no effort to hide their presence from the hypnotist. His voice cracked through the loudspeakers as the doors slammed shut behind them. 

“Hello boys!”

“Hello Tetch!” the Riddler called back, with his seemingly trademark flirt slipping in yet again. Zsasz almost felt a pang of jealousy for a moment.

“What can I do for you fine gentlemen today? Front row seats for two?”

“Actually Tetch, I have some questions. Why don't you come out here, and we can talk.”

“You don't want to talk. You don't bring an assassin, and a gun, and tell me were having tea. Now give it to your friend or our meeting is at an end.” He laughed as he watched the Riddler comply, removing a gun from his jacket and handing it to Victor, only half by his own wishes.

“Now can we talk?”

“But we already are.” Another laugh echoed through the building. 

They walked around as they spoke, looking into rooms until the entered the furthest stage from the entrance. The room was full of abandoned props, and the stage was set with a giant tea party, with the Hatter sitting at the head of it.

The Riddler sighed heavily before calling to him, “Why are you framing me for murders?!”

“I’m not framing you. I’m trying to inspire! I need others with your intellect, and flair.”

“What are you talking about.”

“Follow me, but leave the assassin here.”

He looked to Victor, who nodded once, telling him it was fine to go on without him. He followed as the small man slipped behind the red stage curtain

Out the back, was a large birdcage made from what looked like cardboard. It was clearly some sort of prop but it was full of people who stumbled about blindly as it were actually able to hold them. They looked like zombies as they moved, but they were far from the rotting creatures of fiction. They were beautiful. But it seemed like something was wrong with them, as if they had been poorly made in some factory somewhere.

“Now watch.” Tetch said as he pulled one out of the cage and stood them before him, their eyes blank and unfocused, but following the short man regardless. He lifted his pocket watch and opened it, holding it in front of the figure, forcing them to listen to the ticking.

“Empty soul and empty heart, take the role and play your part. Become the man I ask of you to and the personality will belong to you.” He spoke in a hushed tone, letting the words tumble quickly from his mouth and fall onto the useless body. 

The being straightened up when they heard those words, still the same hollow creature, but somewhat more aware now. It looked at them both, before walking towards them, opened its mouth like it was going to speak, before screaming, a loud and pointless cry, and pushing them harshly out of its way. A tin of green paint had been behind them, and the creature wanted it.

“What is this?”

“It’s another failure.” It punched its hand through the lid of the paint.

“Okay, then what was it supposed to be?”

“You.” 

The Riddler smacked Tetch hard in the back of the head, knocking his hat off and across the room, the little man scampered after it and the strange failure dragged its bloody, paint covered hand across the ground, doing its best to draw a question mark.

“What was that for?” Tetch asked when he returned, and firmly planted his hat down on his head.

“Be thankful I didn't kill you. When I came here, I thought you were insulting me with your pathetic attempts at faking my crimes, but now I can see your just incompetent.”

“That’s not very nice. They’ve gotten alot better!”

“You mean there was a time when they were worse than this?” he asked, gesturing to the poor imitation, who now lay drooling on the ground, grinding its paint covered hand into the ground, still trying to form a question mark.

“Yes. They used to just lay down and die. At least now, they seem to have figured out the colour green, and the question mark symbols.”

“So how are they committing the murders I'm being framed for?”

“Oh no, there's no murders. The dead bodies that keep showing up, are these guys. They have a shelf life of maybe an hour or two after I do my thing.”

“Alright, next question. Why are you doing this.”

“If I can make them into you, then maybe I can make them into Alice.”

“Okay, so why me to begin with? And also, why are you being so honest with me?”

“I have no reason to lie to you, you’ll figure it out eventually anyway, and then its my neck on the line. And I didn’t pick you, my employer did.”

“You have an employer? What is he paying you in, weird cardboard mushrooms?”

“He said if I could figure out the personalities, then a body is on offer for me. One that will belong to my previously-late sister Alice.”

“Her body was destroyed, Tetch. This person can't get it back.”

“I never said it would be her old one. He will make her a new one, the same as her last, but free from her illness.”

“This man will make you a body?”

“Yes, just as he made all these.” He did a sweeping gesture behind them, just in time to see Zsasz ducking behind the curtain and telling them to hush.

“Edward! I know you're in here.”

_ “Penguin! I’m back here! Get me away from these people!” _

They scampered out the back, Tetch following along, because if he was caught hiding Riddler, he would be killed in an instant. From just behind the stage door, they could hear Penguin yelling, and smashing things, before the sound of shots being fired.

“Who’s making the bodys?”

“I don't know his name, but he’ll be bringing me a new batch of them in a few days. Can you wait ‘till then?”

The yelling inside got louder and closer and they slipped around a corner, moving into a fast walk with Tetch almost jogging to keep up.

“Yeah, we can wait. But we’ve gotta get out of here for now. What day is this dude coming?”

“Wednesday.” Tetch called softly, as the two men broke into a run. They raced down the street and into Zsasz’s car before driving away.

“Wednesday.” The Riddler repeated to himself, “That’s like three days from now. Can I stay with you till then?”

“Yeah, but you’ll be home alone tomorrow, ‘cause I’ve got a job on. But if you can promise to keep out of trouble, your free to stay as long as you’d like.”

“Don't say that, or you’ll never get rid of me.”

“That doesn't sound like a problem.” Zsasz said, smiling over the the man beside him.


	4. Hunting for Sport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz has a job, and the Riddler and Edward struggle for control

The Riddler crawled out of Zsasz’s bed, late the next day, finding the house strange without its owner. He had left for his job that morning, sneaking away before the sun had risen, but not before he had left a parting kiss on the resting man's forehead. He had felt it, deep in his slumber, pressing into his face, and watched as Edward scrubbed the mark from himself, but he let it linger on his own skin. They both felt him leave the bed, and then the house, the Riddler felt it like a loss, and Nygma smiled at his absence.

Victor hated leaving him that morning. It had only been a few days since they had met, but he felt a bond, a love, an obsession almost, towards the taller man. He supposed this must’ve been what it was like for Penguin. And as he walked out the front door, he finally understood why Oswald wanted him back so badly.

There was something about the men, both Edward and the Riddler, that was so very appealing. They had some sort of pull about them, each drawing in different audiences, but with the same amount of passion and power. They were almost addictive to be around, and Zsasz regretted every step he took away from the house and from the beautiful man who was tucked safely away within it.

It was a busy day for him though, so he let the feelings run like background noise while he planned out his jobs. He had two hits to make, which he could probably do before breakfast, but then he had also been invited to a ‘hunt’, which was almost the assassins equivalent of a golf trip. It was a good way to build relationships with rich people, or terrible people, with the idea that they when they need to hire someone, they'll choose you. And on top of that, it was also a very good way to demonstrate skills and practise them too.

The ‘hunt’ was probably going to take up the better part of the day, and most of the early evening. After the event had finished, it almost always evolved into a business dinner with at least one potential new client, but today he had high hopes that he would be leaving with more. He had heard of a few new families moving into Gotham as of late, and there were rumours that they would be in attendance.

He needed to do well today, and that meant that he had to forget all about the beautiful man, sprawled out on his bed, at least for the time being. Work came first, it had too.

The first kill of the day was easy. It was a greasy, balding man, with a beer belly and a stained white shirt. His head was shot, and he died, laying back in an armchair that smelled as if it were growing mold, with the tv still blaring from the night before. Victor had shot him with a cheap gun, that could be found in almost any store, and placed it in the dead man’s hand. He didn't even need to dispose of the body before he slipped out of the building. 

The second kill of the day was a little harder, but still simple enough. It was a police woman, with bleach-blonde hair, that she had pulled back into a ponytail that looked painfully tight. It swayed as she walked, with that uptight posture the police have, and Victor realised that it looked a little bit like Edwards. He fired the shot from the window of his parked car. The bullet slipped through the side of her chest, entering near her armpit and tearing out the other side, completely avoiding her bulletproof vest. She fell, and coughed for a minute, before she died. This cleanup was just as easy, because all he had to do was drive away. There were no witnesses, no surveillance cameras, and no way to trace it back to him. He cut two deep tally marks in his skin, before he left the scene.

~~~~~

The Riddler couldn’t really remember the first part of his morning. He remembered waking up, and walking into the shower, and then something happened, and then he woke up again, with one leg hooked over Victors window as if he was climbing in. He clambered the rest of the way in, unsure of why he was outside in the first place and closed the window behind him. The window clicked shut, and he drew the blinds tightly, before stopping dead as the confusion and disorientation finally hit him. The dawning realisation that he had been out of the house, doing things that he couldn't remember, was not good. He looked down at his hands, trying to see if they showed any sign of where he might've been, and saw that they were perfectly clean. He sniffed them once, to reveal the smell of dish soap, and something else. Was it his laundry detergent? Either way, Edward had washed his hands in a kitchen at some point, which raised concerns for the Riddler.

“Where did you go?!” He called out into the emptiness.

_ “Where do you think I went?”  _ Edward responded to him, walking out of the darkness and sitting down on Victor’s couch, crossing one of his long legs over the other.

“That’s not an answer! What did you do?!” The riddler spoke in a harsh whisper, not wanting to raise the neighbours concern.

_ “You know, for a so-called ‘genius’, you’re kind of slow.” _ Edward said, fixing his tie slowly, and deliberately.

“Oh.”

“ _ Oh?”  _

“You took us home.” He said, finally realising why he smelled like his own washing detergent. He was in his own clothes, and so was Nygma. He hadn't noticed before because it seemed so normal for him, but now it all made sense. He must’ve also cleaned the kitchen too while he was there, because it had been untouched for a few days now. It was so obvious. 

_ “And finally he gets it. I took us home, and got us dressed, and since I figured I wasn’t going to be keeping the body for too long, I also packed us a little bag. So you can have your pathetic little domestic here, without having to wear Victors disgusting deodorant.”  _ He pointed across the room, to where a duffle bag sat, all bunched up as if it had been thrown into the room.

“That can’t have been all you did. Tell me the rest of it.”

_ “That’s everything. I took us home, I got us dressed, cleaned the house a little, and packed us a bag. I didn't think I had time for anything else, and honestly I’d rather not smell like your stupid boy-toy assassin, when I finally get the body back.” _

There was a knock on the door. 

_ “Oh, and I also texted Penguin and told him were I was. Now you’d better run Riddler, if you wanna keep your happy little home that is.” _

~~~~~

Zsasz didn't listen as the organisers explained the hunt. He’d been to probably a little over a hundred during his career and the rules never changed. Kill only designated ‘prey’, cleaner kills wield more points, and stop once the time is over. Simple enough. You also had to be mindful of the cameras, and although there was no official punishment for it, the spectators always thought it meant you did sloppy work. Which was almost as bad as having a low point score when it came to landing new clients.

A flair was fired high into the sky to mark the beginning and they all scattered. The events were always held at different locations, and this particular one was being held in a privately owned wooded area. It went on for a few miles in each direction and was surrounded on all sides by high, electrical fence. 

Victor took off in the direction that everyone would have considered backwards, turning away from the flare and running deep into the woods. He was the only one of the professional assassins that had run this way, and hoped that the risk would pay off for him. There wasn't any indication given by the hosts to say which direction to head when you started, most people just chose to run forwards because they felt that it was as good a chance as any, and that was true. But Zsasz’s call to run backwards, quickly proved itself, as he won the first kill of the game.

It was a young man, early 20’s maybe, with dark brown hair, that quickly became matted with blood and brain matter. Zsasz went over and gently rolled him over with his foot, looked at what used to be his face and then walked away. 

He wouldn’t count these kills on his skin, that was more like a professional portfolio to him and this was just sport. But he still wanted to remember them, so he sunk the body's hollow face into his mind, where he could keep his own personal scrapbook of corpses.

After that he also won the title of second and third kill, as well at the first knife kill, when he took out two young girls who were standing together in a small clearing. He snuck up behind them, and slit one of their throats, and before the second one even had a chance to scream, he had plunged the knife into the side of her head. 

He thought for a second that it was quite a shame. They seemed like good kids, although they were definitely at least 25. They just had that innocent, almost cherub like, look about them that some people get. In the way they stood there, in their white dresses, with the thick hair out and flowing, it seemed like they could have been nice. But nice didn't really matter all that much in a place like Gotham, and he moved on after storing their faces away too.

~~~~~

The riddler ran until his body ached deep into his bones, but he didn't stop. He climbed over buildings and jumped between rooftops, using his height to his advantage as two of Penguin’s men barreled behind him. They were heavy on their feet, but had good stamina, which meant that they were going to need to be shaken off, instead of out-run. Which was lucky for the Riddler because he nimbly, but not otherwise all that fit. 

He was slender due to a terrible died, and his natural build, but not because he worked out. 

Moving through the city at this speed was not something that came naturally, he was basically running purely on adrenaline and a little bit of general panic. If he was caught by the Penguin, he would lose his only chance to catch whoever was framing him. Hell, if he even so much as saw the Penguin, he would lose that chance. But he also knew, deep down, that it would also cost him his freedom to use the body, and with it, his freedom to see Zsasz.

So he ran, harder than he ever had before, and eventually lost the two brutes when he scaled a wall and hid inside a warehouse. They fumbled their way over the wall, and kept running forward, following where they thought he had gone and leaving the alley. He waited there for a long time before slipping onto the street and calling Victor from a payphone, leaving a 10 second message explaining what was going on and telling him that he would find him later.

He walked through the almost abandoned streets, ducking out of view every time a car approached from either direction, without fully knowing where he was going, only knowing he had to escape.

~~~~~

Blood spilled from the now gaping wound that used to be a man's face, his mouth and jaw gone, but his eyes still bright. Fear and pain soaked into him as he fell to his knees.

Zsasz watched as the ametaur took another shot, landing it in the man’s shoulder, and launched him onto his back. He pulled out his own gun and pointed it at the mans head, his eyes pleading him to take the shot for the short second before he did. The terrible assassin looked at their hands with terror, shaking and crying, over what was clearly their first kill. 

Victor hadn’t wanted to take the kill shot, he wanted to give this new-comer a chance, and let them earn at least one point, but when he saw the way things were going, he had to step in. He couldn't just stand and watch as this wanna-be assassin, fired non-lethal shots into the poor man. It just wouldn't be right.

“Find a host, and tell him you quit kid. This isn’t for you.” He said firmly, before he walked away. He’d been lucky enough to see more than a few people make their first kills, and you could always tell who had it, and who didn't. Some people drew first blood like it was nothing, and others, like this guy, didn't even have to guts to pull off a mercy killing. Victor hope the kid would heed his advice.

~~~~~

The Riddler found himself phasing in and out as he walked, drifting between himself and Edward. The stress, and confusion was forcing them to switch without any control, and he kept finding himself ‘waking up’ in fully different parts of town. He knew that Eddie was trying to take them to Ozwald, and that the closer they got to his manour the more likely they were to get picked up, but the stress of knowing that only made him flicker in and out more easily.

It wasn't long before someone spotted him, and he was getting pulled backwards into a black car with tinted windows. He locked his eyes shut, hoping that maybe if he couldn't actually see the Penguin, he wouldn't be forced back into the body.

“Open your eyes.”

“Tetch?” 

“You were expecting, Mr. Cobblepot I assume?”

“Yeah. He’s still after me… Can I ask why you kidnapped me?”

“You may.”

The Riddler sighed heavily before asking, “Why did you kidnap me, Tetch?”

“I’ve heard you respond well to it.”

“Please tell me that isn’t a real rumour.” 

“Oh it is! I heard it from my dear friend Mr. Crane, who doesn't even know who you are. He just figured I might. He is a good friend like that.”

_ “Great! Maybe next time you could start a rumour that I respond well to getting gutter stomped, so someone can finally finish us off!” _

“That doesn't really explain why you kidnapped me.”

“Oh. It does, you see, you never even asked where we’re going!”

“Where are we going?”

“Wouldn't you like to know, but it's more fun as a surprise, so only on my command shall you rise.” Tetch said, rushing the words out, and before he even knew what was happening, he was asleep.

~~~~~

Zsasz came overall 3rd in terms of points, but won almost all of the titles. Which was a result, he was very proud of. 

After that, he spoke with a few possible employers, giving his card out to many, and planning dinner’s throughout the coming weeks with a few more, before also booking a meal for that night, with an elderly couple. They weren’t new to Gotham, but they were both aging poorly, and needed some affairs to be put in order. The sort of affairs that people tend to wait out, but these people didn't seem to have that kind of time. They needed some people’s wills to be put into motion a little bit sooner, and some people to be removed from their own. Victor enjoyed family jobs like this, they were always so easy.

The meal they bought him was delicious, and so was the dessert. It was something french and creamy, but he hasn't bothered to learn the name of it, simply pointing to it on the menu. He smiled in a way that said, ‘I’m not trying to be rude, I just can’t pronounce things’ and hoped the waitress would understand. She did. It was a look she saw constantly, and honestly, it was better than the people who did try to pronounce it and didn't point to the menu, because then it was anyone's guess what the customer ordered.

Victor didn't get home until very late, and when he finally opened the door, he was crushed. The house was trashed, and in the middle of his living room, sat Penguin.

“Where’s Edward?”


	5. Dental (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is v long, and is going to be two parts because the story sort of needs it to go like this haha,, also i dont at all engage with the dental prompt in this part but the second part will be mostly about it (i think and hope)

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where is Edward! You took him from me, and I want him back!”

“I haven’t seen Edward in a few days, and I don't know where the Riddler is either.”

Penguin breathed his frustrations out over his teeth.

“Just give him to me, I know you have him here somewhere.”

“Look, Boss, I really don't know where he is. I got a message like two hours ago, from him, telling me that your men were after him, and that he’d find his way home as soon as he could.” 

“We’ll that’s funny, because I got a message from Edward this morning, telling me that you'd kidnapped him.”

“I guess we’re both the problem here then.” Zsasz said, before slumping down in a chair and rubbing his eyes. “I’m just going to wait here until he gets back, like he said he would. Your welcome to stay, but when he gets here, it's going to be up to him, if he wants to see you.”

“Fine, I guess we’ll just wait him out them.”

~~~~~

“Rise.” Tetch whispered into the Riddlers ear, suddenly jolting the man awake. He looked around, sweaty and panicked, and both him and Edward searched for any sort of escape. The room was clearly some sort of basement, with one stairway leading out, and a row of thin windows, placed high on the walls, that were roughly at ground level. He might be able to shimmey out of one, if he could get over to it and had a little bit of time, but it wouldn't be easy.

The room was littered with all sorts of junk, most of it useless or abandoned, that made it unlikely that he would be able to run out through the stairs. If he could make it to them, he would be in with a chance, but getting there would be near to impossible.

And to top it all off, he was tied down. So even if he had the time to get through the window, or the skills to make it over the debris, he still wouldn't be able to. He was strapped down to an old hospital bed, with thick bands wrapping around his chest and legs. He could move his arm up to his elbows, but it didn't help at all.

“Where are we Tetch?”

“You wanted to meet my employer, so here he is. Tea?” Tetch offered, lifting up a ceramic teapot.

“No. I want you to let me out though.”

“Sorry, but I can’t do that Mr. Nygma.”

“It’s Riddler.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Riddler, and you’d do well to remember that.”

_ “Is that really what your going to take issues with? Were strapped to a bed, in some random’s basement, and you are upset he won't use your name?” _

“Shut up Eddie, baby. I don't need that right now.” The riddler said aloud, snapping at the figure in his head.

Tetch moved close to the Riddler, grabbing his face and moving towards it, staring deep into his eyes.

“That isn’t my dear Alice I see in there, is it? No it couldn’t be. So who is it? Right there…” Tetch said, pointing into the tall man's eye, his finger almost touching it.

“That’s just me, Tetch.” Edward responded, and the hatter flinched backwards, able to hear the change in the voice as if it had come from a different man.

_ “What do we gain from scaring him?” _

“He deserves it.” Edward said, smiling at the increasingly afraid man. 

_ “Maybe so, but playing with him won't help us now, unless you can scare him into letting us out.” _

“I could try.” But before he had a chance, he heard someone coming down the stairs. They were heavy, but light on their feet, and they were singing something. Edward didn’t bother to listen to what it was, and shifted his attention straight to Tetch.

“Who is your employer?” He whispered angrily. He had considered it to possibly be Dr. Strange, because he was one of the few people who would take the time to build humans, but there was no way that this was him.

“The Professor.” Tetch whispered back, with that manic smile he so rarely made these days spreading across his face.

~~~~~

“Okay, I’m done waiting. How did you get here?”

“My driver.”

“Get rid of him, we’re going looking for Riddler. We’ll take my car.” Victor said as he crossed the room, and started writing a note on his fridge.

‘Me and Penguin are looking for you. Call either of us when you get back. Were getting worried.’ 

~~~~~

“Who are you?!” Edward yelled at the man before him, the top of his face hidden by a grotesque mask made of animal skin.

“What do you want from me?!” The Riddler continued, screaming with the same passion, but a wholly different voice.

“One question at a time. Which do you want first?” The large man replied, with his voice that was far too high and songlike for it to be natural.

“What do you want from me?”

“Why, your intellect. I need you to reveal the secret of it, so I can give it to my creations. It's the only thing they still lack. I know you’ve seen them, in the theatre, what did you think of them?”

“They’re pretty, but uncanny.”

_ “You’re really going to answer his questions?”  _ Edward asked, regretting losing his spot at the front.

“Uncanny?”

“Yeah. They look like something’s wrong with them, but you can't quite figure it out.”

_ “Your getting very close to insulting them, you realise that right? This man is holding us hostage, and your insulting his zombie collection.” _

“But they’re pretty! Don't get me wrong!”

“Yes, they are pretty aren’t they. They are so close to perfect. All they need now is an education. Now what was your second question? You had two.”

“Who are you?” The Riddler replied. 

“Oh goodness, how rude of me! I’m Professor Pyg.”

~~~~~

“Do you have any idea where we're going?” Penguin asked accusingly, as they weaved through the streets.

“No! Do you?”

“No.” He replied bitterly.

“Great!” Zsasz replied, far to angrily. He took a deep breath, and calmed himself before he spoke again. “I’m sorry boss, this whole things just getting me really worried. Someone’s been framing the Riddler, and now he’s missing. I don't know what to do, or how to help him, or even where to start. It’s all just really scary for me.” Victor confessed, spilling vulnerability through the car.

“Wait. Someones been framing the Riddler? Do you have any leads for that?”

“Sort of. Tetch was technically framing the Riddler, because he was trying to turn these weird clone-things into him, those were the things in the theatre, but he was doing it for someone else. I just don’t know who?”

“I do! His names Pyg! Turn left here!” The car ran across a few lanes, swerving hand and slamming them both against their seatbelts. “He tried to get a permit to make them, back when I was the Mayor, but I didn't let him. I thought he fell off the radar, until I saw those monstrosities in the cage. I thought he might just be selling them off. If I had’ve known, I would’ve mentioned it earlier.”

~~~~~

“Tell me how to make them smart.”

“I already told you, I have no idea.” The Riddler responded.

“How unfortunate, because if you don't tell me, I’m going to dig around inside your head until I find the answer.” He lifted a scalpel into the Riddlers line of sight to validate his threat.

“Have you tried actually educating them? Like sitting down with them, and teaching them stuff?” The Riddler asked.

_ “He’s not Frankenstien. This isn’t a moral lesson about raising your children properly.” _

“I don’t have time for that unfortunately. I’m a very busy man, you see. I’m looking for a much faster solution.”

“If you don’t have time to  _ raise them, then don't have kids in the first place!”  _ The Riddler started to say, before Edward pulled him back in.

“‘If I don't have time to’, what?”

“If you don't have time to teach them, could you hire a tutor? I’d be willing to do it.” Edward replied, floundering slightly.

“Ahh, that is a very generous offer! But I meant I don't have the time, in the sense that I am currently working on a mass production. I need to spread my beautiful creatures far and wide, and soon. I’ve already got buyers lined up and deposits paid. I need them to be ready within the week.”

Edward shuddered, realising there was no way for him to fix this, and looked inside himself, to see the Riddler feeling the same. They were either going to be killed or rescued, and only one of those options seemed to be on the horizon.

“So, can you help me? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

_ “We’re going to fucking die here.” _

~~~~~

Zsasz stopped the car a long distance from the house. It was far enough out of town, that if a car stopped near it, it would be an obvious red flag, and that might risk the Riddlers safety. They were going to have to walk the rest of the way, which wasn't too far, but with penguins bad leg, and their need to be quiet, it was going to take some time.

~~~~~

Edward refused to scream as Pyg cut into the soft skin of his face.

The incision started above his left eyebrow, and pulled back towards his ear, avoiding the front of his forehead for the time being. The blade cut deep and he could feel it running against his bone, the sensation making him cringe despite the intensity of the pain. 

The blood rushed fast from the wound, rolling into his hair and soaking the thin mattress below him. Professor Pyg lifted his head slightly, and turned it, so he could cut around the back, and the second his head was lifted, blood flooded down his face, blinding his eye with thick redness, and painting his neck. 

He heard Tetch gag for a second from across the room, before the sound of him running up the stairs, and then falling hard back down them. It sounded like he had missed a few as he thumped heavily, before tumbling down, his small body rolling as he went.

Nygma couldn't see what had happened. His eyes had unfocused from the pain, and he was unable to think about anything other then the metal dragging on his skull. He could hear it, scratching in his head, and it made him shudder so violently that Pyg stopped for a second, worried he might be about to seize. The blood gushed harder with his sudden movement, and soon it was finding its way into his mouth, slipping over his lips every time the pain dragged a hiss out of him. 

He listened hard for a second during the pause, listening to see if Tetch was okay, and hoping he wasn't, when he heard a different sound. Someone else was coming down. Someone in heavy leather shoes.

The Riddler knew that walk better than his own, and slipped to the front. He moaned loudly when he was finally able to feel the pain, trying his best to not flinch away and shred the wound as he did. It was an injured cry, not the sexualised whimpers he was eager to give Zsasz. This was made of hurt and pain, and purpose. He cried out loudly, where Edward had been stubbornly silent, to cover the sounds of Victor sneaking in.

He cried, and pleadingly stammered out the word ‘stop’, but it wasn't with the intention of working. It was all to help the man who was now crouching behind a pile of random medical equipment. He only fell back to silence once he heard the distinct sound of a gun with a silencer being fired, and a body falling to the ground, groaning in pain but still alive. 

“Zsasz.” He said, his voice weaker than he had expected, and he realised that he was losing control of the body, but Edward wasn't coming up to meet him. He was half there, and half not. The brain was trying to lock out this memory, store it away for later, and save them the trauma of it now, but at the cost of them being less than the some of their parts. Even with two distinct people running the body, they were currently operating with less than half of a driver.

“Victor.” The Riddler said, breathier this time, more fear falling into his voice. He was getting confused, and started to cry, the tears washing the blood out of his eye and helping him somewhat. He looked up and saw the assassin above him, looking at his forehead, hands hovering above it, not wanting to touch it.

“Hey, buddy.” He said, in a soft voice, as he reached under the table and blindly unlocked the restraints. 

The Riddler tried to respond, but his ability to speak was gone, so he ended up just breathing out of his mouth and smiling. It was a weak grin, but a heartfelt one. 

“You okay?” Zsasz said, helping him sit up on the side of the bed with his back to the door, effectively hiding the entrance, and Oswald, from sight.

The Riddlers brow furrowed at the question, and he looked to Victor with wide, vulnerable eyes. 

“Are you okay?” The assassin repeated, lowering himself to the Riddlers eyeline, and beginning to get worried by his confusion. The taller man didn't reply, he just touched his bloodied hair, and showed his hand to Victor, trying his best to communicate that he was injured, without realising how obvious it actually was.

“Do you want to see Penguin? Do you think that will help?”

“Pen-gin.” The Riddler breathed, pushing his bloodied hand slight forward, still trying to show Victor that he was hurt, unable to move past it. Zsasz looked at Oswald and gestured for him to come over, unsure if it would help or not.

“Edward?” The Penguin asked cautiously. 

“No.” The Riddler said softly, trying his hardest to communicate anything.

“Yes.” Edward followed on, just as softly.

“Are you okay?” Oswald asked, trying to get an answer, for both himself and Victor.

Edward breathed shakily for a minute, trying his best to respond, before the confusion and frustration got to him and he started crying. He couldn't help it. He was so worried that he was going to die from the wound that was flooding blood down his body, but he couldn’t manage to tell them he was hurt. They kept asking him, so they clearly couldn't tell, and they didn't understand him when he tried to show them. The tears ran fast and hot down his face and Zsasz and Oswald watched on for a second, unsure what to do.

“Help.” The Riddler finally managed to force out, in a sound so breathy it didn't pass for talking.

“How?” Zsasz asked, knowing that even when he was like this, it was the Riddler speaking.

The Riddler held his bloodied hand out again, desperate for them to finally get it, but they still didn’t. Victor took the hand in his own, assuming the Riddler wanted it to be held, and repeated his question. The Riddler cried again. 

“How can we help you?” Oswald asked once more.

Edward looked around, hoping there might be another way to tell them he needed help. The Riddler found it. He reached out and tucked his fingers under Zsasz shirt, and gently tugged up, asking him to remove it. This was a message that was actually understood and Victor pulled it off quickly, before handing it to the confused man. 

He didn't have the strength left in his hands to ball up the shirt, so he raised the flat fabric to his head and held it there. They finally got it. Zsasz ran out of the room and up the stairs, not needing to tell Oswald that he was getting the car. The Penguin took the shirt out of the Riddlers hand and balled it up himself, pressing it hard against his wound to help stop the bleeding. Edwards hand came to rest on top of his, and he smiled sweetly at the man who was finally helping him.

Zsasz returned quickly. He had left the car still running in the driveway, and the Riddler could hear it. He knew that sound and tried his best to get to his feet, wanting to move towards it, not fully knowing what it was, or why he wanted to be near it. All he knew was that it was the call of a siren and he was eager to follow, to any end.

Victor saw him trying to stand and grabbed under his arms, taking almost all of his weight as he did. The Riddler struggled to move on his feet that felt far too heavy, as it they were big enough to dent the ground beneath himself, even though they barely even grazed the concrete below. He struggled to lift them, and for the second time, Victor found himself picking up a wounded Riddler and carrying him out of a basement.

Getting him into the car was unreasonably difficult, as the injured man didn't want to let go of the assassin. His body was slack, and lifeless, but the grip he had on Zsasz was almost unbreakable, as if all his focus and strength was dedicated to keeping them together. He only finally released when the Penguin slid into the backseat, and Edward crawled in after him, lying himself down in the shorter man’s lap. Oswald, pressed the bloodied shirt back against his head, and held it there, letting the simple task ease his own racing heart. 

He was scared for his beloved. He had seen that man bloody, and hurt, and upset before, but he had never seen him like this. Something was very wrong with him, and he didn't know how to fix it. All he knew he could do now was stem the blood flow, and try his best to comfort the lanky man who now layed, as if dead, across his lap.

Victor looked up in the rear-view mirror and felt the same. All he could do now, for the riddle-man, was get him somewhere safe, where he could get the help he needed. If only he knew what that help was, because this ran deeper than the wound. 

Anyone could stitch his body back together, but nobody could fix the shattered remains of his mind. That seemed to be something that Edward and the Riddler, were going to have to handle alone, but that wouldn't stop their respective lovers from trying their best to help. It might be a long process, but it was one they were happy to stick around for.


End file.
